On Saturday morning I went for a walk in Carmel and saw this gate. My friend Lucia had planned to come with me, but a stunning red dress and some whiskey led her astray. She was too busy pressing her cheek against a pillow to walk. I spent my Friday night with Danielle Steele in my pajamas, so I was up early. I went uptown to fetch some coffee. It was nice to walk through town bright eyed on a Saturday. I haven't been much interested in the party scene. I've been reading and hibernating. Knitting and trying to sock some pennies away in my piggy bank. I'm restless again.

Me, restless?

shocking.

I am bored. I have outgrown the dollhouse. My desire for a fig tree and baby goats is overwhelming. What I am doing is not enough. I need more. I am 30 years old and I no longer want to stay out partying all night every weekend. I want a community. I want to live amongst people that are like me. I want to settle somewhere. Here is beautiful, but it is not going to be my home. so where?

Laughing & Crying

Andie told me that this made her cry.

 

 

And when I listened to the final act of this episode of This American Life…. I cried. And I laughed. And I cried. So if you are in the mood to feel something please listen.

 

It is so beautiful and hard to love.

 

http://www.thislife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?episode=379

 

 

“It is a fearful thing to love what death can touch.”

I remember a really amazingly bizarre Cinco de Mayo I spent at a Mexican Restaurant on Park Blvd with Blair.

 

We met one of those insane cast of characters that only seem to exist in that city by the bay. There was this retired pimp with golden yellow eyes a particular way of saying "Shoot" that made it sound like he was whistling and stuttering. I recorded him on my cell phone, a feature, way back then, that seemed so high tech. Blair and I would play his voice for weeks afterwards and find ourselves immediately in hysterics. I have that phone somewhere in my storage, as a back up, in case my new one should ever break. I wonder if I played it for Blair if he'd recognize it.

 

The restaurant was somewhat notorious, as a few years earlier there had been a major shooting. No one really liked the food, and there was that business of lingering death to it, but we kept going because it was, well, within walking distance of Blair's house. They had a saddle on the bar that while sitting in a bar stool  you would lay your head back on it and the hot girl bartender would stand up on the bar and straddle you and pour margarita shots in to your mouth. The whole restaurant would scream and cheer.

 

Back then I was in to being the kind of girl that would never ever be out-wilded by her boyfriend.

 

So I hoisted myself up on the barstool with a belly full of chips and salsa and let the thin brunette Cindy pour painfully sweet liquor down my throat.

 

Those were the days. Or rather those days.

 

Now I'm 30.

 

Now I get hangovers.

 

Now I have a job that requires me to be "on" at 8am.

 

So this Cinco de Mayo there wont be any Cindy's or ex-pimps and tomorrow I'll feel good about myself.

I'd forgotten what it's like to have a boy court you. Chocolates and flowers and love notes.

From an article I read today in Modern Love. I heart the NyTimes

"It doesn't seem fair that we can look back and connect the dots in life, and see what led from that to this, but we cannot look forward and anticipate in any way what constellation today's dots will form in the vast space ahead of us. I guess it's just best to assume that heaven is right here, right now, and let the stars fall where they may."

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/29/fashion/29love.html

I want someone to say this...

"If I was lucky, I would dream of Natalie Portman. Lord only knows why, but again and again she walked through my subconscious: serene, unsullied, good, like honeysuckle on a cool summer night."

 

Its in this article about this guy being in Iraq....  talking about love.... but it hasn't even gotten to that part yet. Just  something about that line " like honeysuckle on a cool summer night. "

 

I wrote it before I read it.

 

I hate Natalie Portman. HA.

 

Can you tell I have spring fever?

 

 

 

 

Oh lord have mercy on that sweet little japanese man who kept filling my sake box.

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Once upon a midnight

A tale of two cities. The Angel and the Devil. 1 by day and 1 by night.

Two it seems, are always better than one, when its not the one.

(I'm sending my future self a note, so pay no attention if you happen to be reading this. I seem to still not have the bug to blog.)

Exactly one year ago I snapped this photo while waiting for the bus. I was living in Carrboro, North Carolina.... the whole idea of it absurd to me as I sit at a bar in Monterey sipping a glass of wine waiting for Tim's hockey game to end. We are going to a lecture. An old professor of his is speaking about Obama.

Life is good. I'm so happpy to be home. Here. This slice of land along the pacific is heaven..... but I have a secret: I have been having a fantasy about wilmington. I have a friend getting married in June... I will be going back to NC for the wedding... wonder if I will feel homesick?

I just spent the best

I just spent the best love day ever with Sarah. We saw snow, dreamed, ate, had tea, shopped, read magaines & watched movies.